Ordo Ad Chaos
by Liberty-In
Summary: All government systems in the UK go AWOL, and no one knows how or why. The rest of the world close down all connecting transport, ship and airline routes, and a mass evacuation of Ireland occurs. As the entire nation deteriorates, a perimeter of international forces keeps everyone in. What will happen when John and Sherlock get thrust into a world where order has turned to chaos?


**A/N:** Just a little thing I felt like posting. Idea came to me in my philosophy and reason class when we were discussing political philosophy, and I was like hmm.. what if the government disappeared? What would the repercussions be? And so this little thing was born! (Tell me if you like it - maybe if I get enough follows, favourites, reviews etc. I'll continue hint hint nudge nudge.) Oh and for the sake of simplicity pretend Sherlock returned early, if you get my drift. :)

I also felt like making a little fic poster because I really really love Latin okay.

And I won't have Chapter 4. of 'I Thee Wed' done tonight I think, but I'll try my solid best for all of you wonderful people who've responded with (frankly overwhelming) encouragement so far to get it up asap! It means so freaking much that you like my stuff! :D Now, on with the fic!

P.S. On AO3!

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**Chapter 1: The Final Problem**

There are certain things that are vital. For individuals, for society - for individuals as a part of society. Without such things, the world would be different. Alternate. Confusing.

Wrong.

Taking such things away is probably not a good idea. In fact, it's probably a very _bad_ idea. But what happens when such things _are_ taken away, and everything gets shot to hell? What happens when all you understand about the world decides to flip itself on its head and start doing dizzying chaotic cartwheels? What happens when the life you've made for yourself - the life you've found and are relatively content with - shatters into a million tragically beautiful shards of glass, never to be fit together again?

Sometimes things change - sometimes things are _meant_ to change. But this, _this_ was never meant to be one of them.

Stories tend to begin with a whisper or a yell. This one began with a whisper, a delicate tendril of thought that wormed its way into a fractured mind and exploded into reigning technicolor chaos. This one began with a single - contrarily - whispered word: an onomatopoeia.

Bang.

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_**Sunday, 5th May, 2013**_

"John."

"John, wake up."

"_John_."

John groaned and rolled away from the irritating voice trying to rouse him. He scrunched up his nose and pulled the covers up tighter around him, snuggling himself further into his bed as if it would block out the clanging voice.

"John! Wake _up_! This is _important_," Sherlock insisted, shaking John's shoulder through the mountain of duvet and sheets he was buried under.

"No, go make your own tea, Sherlock," John mumbled, his words half-formed due to grogginess. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to slip back into the warm cocoon of sleep he was being so rudely forced away from.

Sherlock huffed a breath of frustration at John's stubbornness. Even in his half-conscious state, John could easily sense Sherlock rolling his eyes in irritation.

"John. You know I detest repetition, but this is truly a matter of emergency," Sherlock pressed, his tone the very definition of impatience.

"Five more minutes," John mumbled, his sleepiness slowing and slurring his words.

Sherlock placed his hands on his hips, humming his disapproval as he stared at the immobile lump of his friend.

_This won't do, _he thought.

He grabbed the top of duvet with both hands and yanked as hard as he could. The duvet - plus a number of sheets that got caught in Sherlock's grip - came away and fell off John's bed, leaving a disgruntled, prickly pyjama-clad John Watson glaring up with pursed, tense lips and clenched fists at his devil-spawn of a flatmate.

"Oi!" John yelled, now more or less awake, "_Sherlock_! Give it back!"

"No," Sherlock shot back, "Now would you get up already?"

After a short but heavy silent battle of wills, Sherlock seemed to sense when John's resolve faded before John knew it himself.

"Alright, fine! Jesus, you're annoying," John grumbled, some tension leaking out of his shoulders - but Sherlock was already clattering down the stairs.

Deciding that there was really no point in going back to sleep now that he had been so rudely awoken - and because he was, admittedly, a bit curious - John groaned and dragged himself out of bed.

Once he had dressed, been to the loo and splashed some water on his face, he too made his way downstairs to find Sherlock muttering as he paced back and forth in the living room, just as he was wont to do when they had a case. Except to John's knowledge, there was no current case on and no reason for Sherlock to wake him up crying emergency. Usually, if Sherlock had managed to acquire a case in the dead of the night, he would wake John and say it straight. "Emergency" usually meant "make me toast and tea and get my phone because I'm lazy and you're basically my housewife."

So understandably, Sherlock's current behaviour was confusing him.

"Sherlock? What's going on?" John asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Sherlock gestured wildly at the TV, which was switched to a news channel. "That, John. _That_ is what's going on!"

The consulting detective resumed his pacing as John turned his attention to the flat-screen.

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**Oh look a little white box.** What do you think? Would you like me to continue? What would be your guess as to what happens next? I always reply to every signed reviewer who has their PM inbox open, no matter how short or long the response so basically go right ahead guys! :3


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